Abel
by Barbara Anne
Summary: When going against the Church spells certain death, Sherlock must masquerade as a prophet of god to carryout his work. As the Church begins to suspect Sherlock's lack of faith they send in a veteran,little do they know their bond will break all the rules.


**Abel **

Prologue

Sherlock made his way down the darkened hallway of the parking complex, checking his watch one more time. 10:01 AM, "_I'm early" _he thought to himself. The hum of the dim fluorescent lights rang in his ears as he ducked his way into an empty supply closet. In one smooth motion he was crouching over his leather medical bag which was now resting atop the closest overturned mop bucket. He set his change of clothes neatly atop the case and began to undress.

As he pulled the cassock over his head and fastened the ferriola, he paused "_how long can I keep this up?_"Fixing the white tab under his collar he turned to examine himself in the grime stained mirror. "_…as long as it takes to do my work._" He ran his long ivory fingers through the twisted nest that was his hair, and with a sigh, hung a rosary around his slim neck.

Leaving his street clothes in his bag he made his way for the door. After weaving through rows of cars he finally spotted the stairs. Quickly, taking two at a time, the rhythm of his footsteps bounced of the barely lit stairwell like the chant of a drum. Once on the second level he saw what he had come for.

"Good morning Detective Inspector." Sherlock called out to a silver haired man standing behind the red tape line. "Ah! Blessed be, you came!" said the man, "Im so glad you're here father, actually, I wanted to ask you something a-about-"

"We're hear to talk about the case and not your cheating wife Inspector Lestrade, I think it best we get on with business." Sherlock said as he made his way over to the older man.

The detective's face fell. "Right…that's uhh… that's what I thought.." Sherlock couldn't help but notice the detective's posture slump a little as he turned to lift the tape.

_Why is he so upset? It really was obvious though, I mean, he had to have noticed or he wouldn't have been about to ask me._

Not that Sherlock didn't respect Lestrade. No, its just that most people were idiots and simply didn't observe what was right there in front of there dull little faces.

"And don't call me father… im a prophet… not some humble clergyman." muttered Sherlock as he ducked under the dark red, homicide regulation tape, the church's insignia stamped across it every few inches. Sherlock caught the older man grimace as they looked upon the grotesque scene.

"Female, 5'4", about 32 years of age as we can tell, no signs of a struggle. Stabbed six times in the chest with an iron file, poor girl.." sighed the detective "Our people say she's been dead for about 18 hours. Some sap found her on his way to work this morning, scared the living daylights out of him."

"Spare me the anecdote Detective, I assume im here to tell you why she let someone walk up to her and stab her in the chest."

"Well ye-" said the inspector before Sherlock cut him off again "Give me a moment." When Lestrade didn't budge Sherlock found himself barking, "Now!"

The inspector stared at Sherlock seemingly dumbfounded.

"Alright you pompous sod… have your moment." muttered Lestrade as he shuffled out of the way.

"_God I hate this part." _thought Sherlock as he turned toward the body once again. He abhorred having to pretend he was some sort of magical Catholic witch doctor communing with the "holy spirit" every time he made a simple deduction. But it was the only way he could still work, the only way he could keep himself from going utterly insane. Pulling out his cross and muttering all the right scriptures under his breath, he began the real process. He circled the body taking in everything he could without seeming suspicious. Oh this was just too easy; they really were becoming dependent up on him.

With a sudden flourish of his robe, he took one dramatic step forward. Slowly he raised his hand to the sky and with a slight tremor, drew out the Holy Trinity. Sherlock sucked in a quick gasp and his whole body quaked , letting his eyes roll back in his head. "_Thank god mother was an actress_" Sherlock thought as he began to decrease the frequency of his shakes. Suddenly he moved to grip his chest, the cross still in hand as he focused. He doubled over as he continued his efforts to force the air from his lungs, making all of his breaths hard and jagged. Boredom had driven him to make today's performance a tad more dramatic than necessary. The case had been so damned easy it was almost ironic how much he played himself up. He was going to catch serious flack about this from Mycroft later.

* * *

><p>"CONFOUNDED SHERLOCK! You can't just run around cross in hand, flailing about, people are starting to wonder!" Mycroft boomed as he cornered the younger Holmes brother. "You're lucky you have me here or you'd be locked up in an institution somewhere. Don't you dare forget that.."<p>

"Ever so humble Mycroft. I couldn't forget it if I tried, YOU would never let me, now would you." Sherlock said as he shot a piecing glare at the rotund man. Sherlock made his way over to the window over looking the courtyard below. Mycroft's cushy job had its perks, his office was impeccably decorated with the finest antique mahogany desk. Numerous bookcases filled with volumes upon volumes of first editions.

"I see the diet hasn't been working out for you." Sherlock sneered

"Oh shut your mouth Sherlock, and would you, JUST this once, actually listen to what I have to say."

"Go on then…" muttered Sherlock

"People are starting to get suspicious of you Sherlock, I've been doing my best to keep your lack of faith a secret, but you INSIST on making it so damn hard don't you?"

Sherlock feigned a look of shock. "Mycroft! A man of your status and faith saying…saying" Sherlock cupped his hand at the side of his mouth and proceeded to whisper, "damn?"

"SHERLOCK THIS IS SERIOUS!, YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME TO KEEP COVERING FOR YOU LIKE THIS WHEN YOU ARE BEING SUCH A PETULANT CHILD! To think I promised mummy that I would keep my eyes on you.."

"OH FUCK YOU MYCROFT! Dear old 'MUMMY AND DADDY' didn't give a damn about me and you know it!" shouted Sherlock

"This isn't the time to get into petty squabbles over the family, I've managed to find out that the church is going to hire some ex-military to keep an eye on you. Supposedly, its to help the both of you out financially, and since you do technically, live on church property they have the right to rent out your flat.." Mycroft sighed at the last part.

"BUT, you and I both know its just to sniff out the ever more obvious fact that you, Sherlock Holmes, are not a true prophet of god." Mycroft said with a growing intensity,

"I can't protect you forever Sherlock, you better straighten out, or you're on your own. No regrets."

Sherlock scoffed. "Oh please, they've gone ten years without figuring it out what makes you think they will now."

Mycroft's face darkened, he look around the room before leaning closer to his brother. "Certain divisions are under new management, not mine clearly but, mainly ones dealing with overseeing church officials which, even if you refuse to admit it, you ARE."

"A man by the name of Dursell, has made it clear that he plans to weed out all the bad apples. I remember him saying something along the lines of 'this holy institution is overflowing with hedonism and debauchery, its my job to clear it out by any and all means necessary. '

"Im absolutely terrified Mycroft. Really, I think I may die of fright." Sherlock said as he made his way to the door. With one last hard look at the elder Holmes, he shut the door behind himself. A little harder than necessary.

Mycroft sighed and crossed himself. "God help that boy, you know I can't."

* * *

><p><strong>Hiya, babs here, just wanted to say Reviews &amp; Criticism are welcome. Please, let me know if I suck and should stop putting my stupid shit on fanfiction XD<strong>

**Un-betad so sorry if there are any heinous errors**


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